


Room Of One's Own, A

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2001-07-14
Updated: 2001-07-14
Packaged: 2019-05-15 11:14:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14789459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: I couldn't sleep, so I wouldn't let them either.





	Room Of One's Own, A

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

 

Title: A Room of One's Own

Category: Humor, SS, JL

Rating: G

Summary: I couldn't sleep, so I wouldn't let them either.

Name: Cath

 

 

"You know what I think?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "What?"

"I don't think we should have to share rooms anymore."

"Us?" He waited for a moment. "Or anyone?"

"Anyone. Any one of us."

Sam rolled over to stare into the blackness that was Josh's side of the hotel room. "You think." It wasn't a question.

"He's the President."

He noted the tiny inflection on the last word. To keep him on his toes, he supposed, in case he'd forgotten whom he worked for in the fog of a 21-hour day. "I've noticed."

There was the restless squeaking of springs as Josh changed position in his bed. "So I'm just saying."

"We shouldn't have to share rooms anymore."

"Right."

"Understood." He closed his eyes again, letting exhaustion settle over him, an almost comforting weight on his bones.

"Well?"

He blinked in the darkness, jarred back from semi-consciousness. "Well what?"

"Don't you have an opinion?"

I have many, he thought ruefully. "No."

"Nothing to say?" There was a plaintive note that bordered on a whine in his friend's voice.

"Josh, I promise you, if you bring this up in the morning I'll have plenty to say."

"It is morning."

"This is my point."

There was the sound of metal scraping over wood, and the brief and somewhat frightening glimpse of Josh's face lit by Indiglo. "We have to be up in three hours."

Sam sighed. "Again, you state the obvious." He let his eyes drift closed in the silence that followed.

A scuffle of bedclothes. "You don't think the secret service could make them clear out an entire floor?"

"You still have that pocket knife on your key-ring that your mother sent you when we went to Montana?"

"I..." Josh searched for the segue, and found none. "Yeah. She thought I might..."

"... take to the outdoors," groaned Sam, assaulted by memories.

"Yeah, I still have it."

"And where is it now?"

The squeak of bedsprings. "On the table I think."

"Excellent."

A pause. "Why'd you ask?"

"I might need it."

"For what?"

"To hurt you if you don't shut up," he threw back, as he turned over onto his side.

There was the muffled whumpf of pillows as Josh lay back down. "I just think we should get our own rooms now. We're senior staff."

"Yeah."

"You don't really care, do you?"

"Apparently not as much as you."

"It's about the integrity of the position."

Sam snorted. "I'm sure."

"I gotta tell you, that's a real attractive sound you just made. The ladies must go wild."

"The ladies?" He was amused.

"Yeah. You know, the ones you..."

Sam held up a hand, trying to halt the flow of words in the darkness. "I followed where your mind wandered, Lothario."

"So I'm just saying..."

"And I'm pointing out that no-one's called anyone 'the ladies' since at least 1989."

"So you'll talk about the ladies but not about the rooms." Even in the darkness it was clear he was pouting.

Sam propped himself up on one elbow. "Josh."

"Yeah."

"Shut up."

Josh let out a long suffering breath. "OK."

"Seriously."

"OK." The word carried the weight of the persecuted.

Sam smothered a yawn. "We'll talk in the morning."

Josh turned over in bed, paused, and turned over again. There was a soft thump as a pillow hit the floor. "Bed's not even comfortable," he muttered.

Sam threw back the bedclothes and stood up, heading in what he presumed was the direction of the table by the window. From the silence at the other side of the room, he knew Josh could hear his footfalls, and was waiting, confused. "I'm fetching your knife," he offered helpfully.

There was a creak as Josh sat up. "You hate knives," he said, laughing.

"Yeah, but I have a list, and knives are way down it right now." He took two more steps toward the curtained window and yelped as his shin hit something hard.

"Find the table okay?" asked Josh, helpfully.  


"Shut up."

"Okay."

"I mean it."

"You're arming yourself, I'm taking you seriously," said Josh.

Sam paused from rubbing his leg. "You sound smug."

"No I don't." The smug had increased several levels.

"Yes you do."

He chuckled. "Well, you're injuring yourself over there. I'm fairly sure that wasn't the idea."

Sam straightened, chin lifting with pride. "I don't have my glasses on."

"And they help you see in the dark?"

"Josh..." He turned back to his bed, hands outstretched in the darkness.

"Hmmm?"

"Shut up."

"Would you?" Josh yawned loudly. "I'm trying to sleep here."

Sam smothered an effective curse and climbed back into bed. He pulled the white cotton sheet around him. "I wonder what I did," he murmured.

"Hmmm?"

"I wondered what I did. To deserve this."

A yawn. "This?"

He lay on his back and rubbed the bridge of his nose, soothing the familiar ache. "Sharing a room with you. It's someone's idea of a little punishment."

Josh chuckled. "Told you. Need rooms of our own."

"I agree."

"That's all I needed."

"So shut up."

He grinned. "O�K."

 


End file.
